Unexpected Soldier
by Setch
Summary: War hero Santana Lopez finally comes back from service. She was, of course, expecting everything to change -change is human, after all. But clearly, Brittany's husband was not expecting her to pop up of nowhere and discover their little secret, consequently changing their lives. Slightly AU.
1. Chapter 1

Well, this is an idea that has been swimming in me head for a while now. I had to investigate a lot so this fic would seem at least partially real, mostly because of the army stuff and all. Deployment, ranks and requirements, etc.

This is my first fic based on a TV Series with real life characters. I honestly don't know that much about Glee. I've seen half the chapters, and I fell in love with Brittana. Now, after chapter '100', I have hopes again.

**Disclaimer:** I simply don't own Glee. I do own a few fictional characters that will appear later on, but you guys will know which one they are.

**Warning:** Contains abusive behavior.

* * *

**Santana**

"So, wait. You're coming back?" Santana nodded, a light smile playing on her lips. "For real?" The Latina barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

"Yes, Quinn. For real." Santana adjusted the camera a bit, then straightened back on her seat. "I'll still work in the army, though." Quinn's excited face visibly deflated. "No deployment this time, girl. So get that fucking sulk off of your face, will ya? It creeps me out." She didn't mean to sound so rough and, well, bitchy, but that was what happened after eleven years in the army. Quinn seemed to understand this, though, and Santana was content with it.

"Anyway," The blonde on the other side smiled a bit, lifting a perfect eyebrow and lacing her fingers together in a tight grip. "You're coming to the Glee meeting this year?" Santana groaned, rubbing her forehead in annoyance. "Oh, come on, San! Everyone misses you!" Santana snorted. Unlikely. "Well, Britt does-" Santana cut her off with a glare. That topic was still touchy, even if she hadn't had any sort of direct contact with the blonde since she left.

Quinn rolled her eyes and sighed in defeat. "Fine." A few awkward minutes followed. Santana was not accustomed to it, and decided to speak first.

"So," She coughed into her fist. "How are you doing?" Quinn smiled appreciatively at her, then launched into a storm of tales about her life, every now and then including the other Glee members so Santana would know the blonde was not about to completely drop the subject. Santana never expected her to do so.

With a promise to consider her attendance to the annual Glee meeting -after much coaxing and blackmailing from the blonde- they finally cut off communication. Santana leaned back into her chair and sighed.

Her eyes instinctively zeroed on the picture resting on her desk. After every contact with anything from her past, she would immediately look at it. It was one of the few guilty pleasures she had.

Grasping it with one hand, she caressed the freshly-polished wooden frame with the other, careful enough as not to touch the glass that protected the picture she gazed at lovingly.

There she was, an eighteen-year-old fool, hugging her two best friends -also eighteen-year-old fools- against her as they smiled cheesily for the impromptu picture. Brittany's arm disappeared somewhere along the corner-she was the one taking it-, and her other arm disappeared behind Santana, who was blushing lightly and hugging her back -and Quinn-. The last blonde's expression was adorable. She was hugging Santana back, albeit hesitantly so, and smiling shyly, not expecting the picture at the time, but not being able to say no the Brittany about it.

"Times have certainly changed." Santana mumbled, her eyes now fixed on the many scars of her hands, none of them made with papercut.

She slowly put the frame down on the desk before standing up. With one last longing glance, she grabbed her military jacket and marched out of her office.

* * *

**Brittany**

"Have you heard from Santana?" Santana. After so many years, it still sounded so foreign to call her old best friend by her full name. And yet, she didn't know how to call her now.

Quinn shook her head sadly from the other side of the phone and sighed. "We've been over this, Britt. I can't tell you about her." And it absolutely _sucked_ for both parties.

"Fuck Quinn!" She caught herself and looked behind her. Her husband was still asleep on the couch. She eyed him warily. "Why won't you just tell me where she is?" She whispered into the phone, her hopeless tone breaking Quinn's heart apart.

"Because I promised her not to tell you." A hesitant minute. "She's fine, Britt." The taller blonde sighed in relief. It was the first time in months that she knew something about the Latina. It amazed her that knowing that she was fine calmed her down so much. It wasn't good to be nervous all the time. Between work, her husband, her daughter and the upcoming baby, the addition of her 'worrying about Santana' time was taking a toll on her body.

"How fine are we talking about?" The last time Quinn had told her fine, the Latina had been hospitalized and by 'fine' Quinn had meant 'alive'.

From the other side, Quinn bit her lower lip. She wasn't about to tell Brittany about Santana's come back. Hell, she didn't even know where Santana was going to stay or when she was going to arrive for that matter, but if it was anywhere near Brittany, both parties needed to know about each other's existence. On the other hand, she was getting sick of not telling Brittany _exactly _where Santana was, or how she was doing. Or maybe the fact that Santana missed the blonde so much she would break down if Quinn mentioned her a little too much, specially after an incredibly difficult, life-threatening, mission.

_Fuck this, _she thought. Brittany needed to know about Santana's well being. Both the Latina and Quinn owed her that at least.

"Santana is..." She heard Brittany's breath hitch. "She has changed, B. She has changed a lot." Quinn took a shaky breath. _Forgive me, S. _"She's become so strong and beautiful. You wouldn't believe me until you saw her." A sob was heard from the other side. Quinn ignored it and continued. "She won't talk much about her job. She gets touchy. I can't- I mean-" And Quinn broke down in sobs as well. "God, B. You should see her."

"Then why can't I, Q?" Brittany all but yelled. "Why? Why?" She whispered, clinging onto the phone as her knees gave out on her weight. "She speaks with you. Why won't she speak with me?" Quinn had to bite on her lower lip again to refrain herself from answering. _Because she still loves you and respects you and practically worships the floor you walk on. _But Quinn couldn't tell Brittany that. The blonde had chosen someone over Santana a long time ago, and it left the Latina broken.

"I don't know, Britt." Quinn sighed shakily, trying to control her own sobs. The guilt was eating her alive. "Maybe you should speak with Matt about-"

"No!" Brittany's response was immediate. Quinn had expected as much. The subject of Matt vs Santana was avoided as much as possible.

"He's your husband, B. You should be able to speak with him about these things. I'm sure he would understand your situation. You're just missing a friend. It's natural for you to feel sad." As always, Brittany rejected the idea.

"I don't want to burden him with my problems. You know how he's been busy with work. He's stressing out too much now." Quinn hesitated, but decided against arguing. There was just something in Brittany's near plea that told her to drop the subject at once.

"Britt?" The blonde in question tensed as she heard the voice of her husband. "Who are you speaking with?" There was something in his tone that made Quinn lift a dubious eyebrow as she stared at her phone. "Give it to me." There was shuffling on the other side, then hushed whispers on the background. Quinn couldn't make out what they were saying. "Hello?" Matt, Brittany's husband, was suddenly on the phone. His voice was authoritative and firm, a result from his many years in the police force, no doubt about it. Quinn had never liked him, but she tolerated him.

"Hello, Matt," She mentally patted herself for sounding so cordial. "May I speak with Britt? We were discussing something just now." She heard more shuffling from the other side. "Matt?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry, Quinn." He answered quickly. "Brittany here was just sitting down. She's a bit exhausted, you see." His voice sounded strained, but Quinn blamed it on his worry for his wife and his unborn child. "Maybe you should call later on?" He suggested in a tone that didn't seem like a suggestion at all.

"Sure, Matt. Tell her we will talk later, yeah? Maybe at the Glee meeting?" She asked with no small amount of hope, seeing as they hadn't gone the previous year due to Brittany suddenly falling sick.

"We will see, Quinn. With the baby and all," He hesitated. "I don't want her stressing out for no reason." Quinn looked at her phone in disbelief.

"Matt, meeting with the Glee members will lift her spirits. Taking her there will be good for the baby. And you know how much Charlie misses her aunts, uncles and cousins." She didn't feel the least guilty by using the man's weakness for his daughter.

"Well... I'll see what I can do about it." Quinn squealed mentally. _Score. _Because that was the closest thing to a 'yes' that she would ever get from the man. Now, if she could only convince Santana...

"Great. Thank you, Matt. Tell Britt and the girls I love them. Bye!" With that she hung up on him, not even waiting for a response.

* * *

Matthew Brown scowled in disgust as he stared at the phone in his hand before slamming it back on its place.

"What were you and your _friend_ talking about?" He growled out at his wife. Brittany winced at his harsh words from her spot on the couch. Matt had always suspected of an affair between her and Quinn. "Don't you dare lie to me because I heard that fucking name _again_." He was, obviously referring to Santana. "So?" He spat. "I don't have all day, woman. Spill out." Brittany sniffed.

"She just- I mean-" She sobbed, but immediately stopped herself. Matt didn't like it when she did that. It only angered him further. "Quinn was just telling me about Santana's newest mission." It was a complete and utter lie, if she ever heard one, but she couldn't really tell Matt about her missing Santana, just as she couldn't tell Quinn about Matthew's constant verbal abuse whenever he was in a foul mood. Things didn't work like that.

"So the bitch is being sent on another mission?" Matt smirked, knowing that his next words would leave Brittany specially wounded for, at least, the rest of the week. "Maybe this time she won't come back, who knows." With that, he turned and walked upstairs to their room, laughing all the way.

Brittany could only hug herself and let the tears fall freely.

"San..." She whispered the name among silent sobs.

"Mommy?" Brittany immediately snapped her head to her daughter, who was too sleepy to notice her mother's state. _Thank God, _thought Brittany. The least she needed was for her daughter to start questioning her and worrying for something she shouldn't even know about.

"Hey, baby." She put up a smile for her daughter's sake. "Bad dreams again?" The five-year-old nodded her head. "Aww. Come here, baby girl." Charlize Brown wasted no time and ran to her mother, who hugged her tightly to her chest, where Charlie felt the safest.

"Were you and daddy fighting again?" Brittany froze. _Shit._

"What makes you think so, honey?" Of course she had heard. Her daughter was too curious for her own good sometimes. She was so much like her when she was her age it scared her. Same blue eyes, same blonde hair, same smile and even the same taste in friends, if the fiery little spitfire of a girl she had befriended at school was anything to go by. Matthew sometimes even joked about her not being his at all, which deeply hurt the dancer. Not that she would ever show that to the others.

"I heard screaming," Charlie trailed off, hesitant. "Was it Santana again?" Brittany's breath hitched for the second time in the night. Should she lie to her daughter? Absolutely. How, though? "I heard daddy saying she could die." Charlize frowned. She knew that she didn't like it when people died. Her hamster had died not long ago and her mother had explained to her that he wouldn't come back. She didn't know Santana, but she knew that her mother would be really, really sad if she died, and Charlie hated it when her mother was upset.

"No, baby girl." Brittany shifted the little girl and placed her on her lap. "Remember how I told you about Santana being a super hero? That she fights the bad guys to protect us?" Charlie nodded her head cutely, thinking about how cool it was for Santana to be a super hero. "Well, superheroes don't die easily, honey. Santana will come back someday. Do you know what to do when she does?" Charlie nodded her head again and smiled brilliantly at her mother.

"I will give her a big hug and a kiss on her cheek." Brittany nodded her head proudly, momentarily forgetting about her argument with Matthew.

"Good girl." Brittany patted her blonde hair. "Now go to bed. You have school tomorrow." Charlie pouted.

"But, mommy! It's the last day of school! Can't I just skip it?" Brittany lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. A habit she had picked up from Santana and Quinn long time ago.

"Never under my watch." With that, she took her daughter upstairs and put her to sleep in her arms. She couldn't sleep with her husband on the same night they had fought. She had learned that a long time ago.

She fell asleep with a certain brunette in mind, remembering the few details Quinn had disclosed.

_God, B. You should see her. _

A single tear travelled down her flushed cheek. She really missed Santana.

* * *

**Santana**

"Ah, Lopez!" Out of discipline and instinct, Santana saluted. It was the only right thing to do in front of a general, after all. "At ease, soldier." The woman on the chair chuckled as the Latina relaxed her stance, if only a little bit. "Are you sure about this? You will be missed in the battlefield, my friend." Santana smiled tightly. Friend was a very inaccurate way to describe the relationship she had with her superior, considering they had warmed each other's bed a handful of times. Still, she certainly considered Holly Holliday one of her closest friends, given what they had both been through.

"I am sure, ma'am." She let herself tease the blonde in front of her. "It's been a long time since I saw my family and friends." Holly nodded her head. She knew everything about Santana, so the Latina didn't need to say much in order for her to understand what she actually meant.

"Does your friend Quinn know about your return?" Santana nodded. "Good. Is she picking you up at the airport?" The Latina shook her head and smirked. Holly knew that twinkle in her eyes. "You're going to surprise her, aren't you?" Without waiting for a confirmation, Holly laughed joyously.

Santana sat on the chair in front of the young general's desk. "I'm going to miss you, you know?" The Latina didn't want to leave with any regrets in her heart. She had learned from the first time.

Holly's eyes softened considerably. She wanted to hug the Latina so bad, but she knew her actions and words were being measured by a camera that was hanging on the ceiling. Being a general had its disadvantages.

"Well, you're not actually retiring. It's office desk. You can still call me, miss Lima Heights Adjacent." Santana cursed under her breath. "Seriously. You got your ass so well-kicked when you mentioned that little detail to everyone on your first day here." Holly couldn't help but laugh out loud at her friend, recalling the memory as if it had been the day before.

"You helped them, Holly." Santana crossed her arms and scowled, not amused in the least. The general shrugged.

"Do you need anything? Anywhere to stay until they assign you to your boring job?" A smile tugged at Santana's lips. Holly was one Hell of a friend, and she would have made a mean cheerleader.

"I've got it covered." She stood up from her seat and saluted. "It has been my pleasure to serve with and under you, my general." She smirked at Holly, who had the decency to blush at the innuendo. "Though we both know it was more of you beneath me." She whispered before making a dash to the door.

"Get out of here, Lopez!" Holly barked in laughter. She would miss her friend dearly.

_You would have been one Hell of a General, Satan._

* * *

"Ma'am!" Santana sighed as she descended from the plane and saluted the young and shaking Corporal, who was, if she had any say in it, as stiff as a stick.

"At ease, jelly legs. I'm practically retired, anyway." She decided to grace him with a small smirk. The soldier nodded his head fervently.

"Sorry, ma'am. It's just that-" He bit on his lip and squared his shoulders. "I highly respect you ma'am. You are, like, one of my heroes." Santana frowned, not sure if she liked what he was getting at. "You. Ugh." Corporal Xavier, as his dog tags said, struggled with his words. "You saved my brother back in Afghanistan. I joined the army because of people like you." Santana kept on frowning.

"So you joined the army after your brother nearly died in combat? What did he have to say about that?" Santana put her hands behind her back as she walked towards the private entrance of the airport. She noticed how Xavier's shoulders slumped.

"He said I was stupid and reckless-" Santana 'tskd' at him and gave him a cold glare.

"And he's a smart one. Corporal Xavier Black." She examined his tags again. "Any relation to Alphonse Black?" The soldier nodded, affirming his bond with his brother. "Did he tell you what happened back there?" Xavier shook his head reluctantly. "Well, let me tell you how it went." She grabbed him by his collar and got so close to him their noses were touching. Corporal Xavier had never seen such cold eyes. "Your brother and I were part of a mission, yeah? Top secret and all, so don't ask." With her free hand, Santana took out a cigarette and lightened it. She took a puff on Xavier's face.

"Anyway, where was I? Oh, ya. So, the plan was easy enough. Still not telling what it was. However, somewhere along the middle of a rather gory battle, some dumbass fucked up with a bomb and nearly blew us up to the sky and back. Your brother and I were part of the few that came out alive of that one, and that's a lot for him, considering the chunk of thigh he's missing, am I right?" Xavier nodded stoically as Santana grunted out the details. "I was this close from leaving his ass behind, you know? But I am no selfish bitch in the battlefield, and I saw him trying to crawls his way out of the fucked up place we were. So, ya, I got him up and a few more, then ran away to live another day."

Santana finished her cigarette and threw it on the floor before ehaling smoke one last time on Xavier's face. "So there you go, boy. That's no fairy tale ending or beginning. You were immediately assigned to this shitty escort job, and you probably want to see some action and avenge your big bro, don't you?" Xavier looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Well?" Santana all but spat in his face. Xavier hesitated before nodding.

"Typical idiot." Santana threw him on the floor. "Now listen to me, and listen to me well." She kneeled down to his level and tightened her fist on his hair, yanking him closer one more time. "They are going to sent you home on the next week. Consider this your last mission. Do me a favor and never step on a battlefield. And if I ever see you on one, I'll go all Lima Heights Adjacent on your pathetic little ass. You know what happens in Lima Heights? _Bad things._" She threw him again on the floor and huffed as she saw tears form at the corner of the guy's eyes.

She gave him one last cold glare and walked away from the landing zone, calling in a few favors to pull the guy out of the army or any kind of weapon-wielding job that could get him killed. She had liked Alphonse Black. He was smart, strong and knew some pretty damn good jokes to lighten up the mood. Santana texted him on weekly basis, if she remembered.

She pulled her new cellphone out -courtesy of Holly Holliday- and typed; _You owe me another one. You'll see why soon._

Santana liked Alphonse. He was a good man and he was honorable. Honorable, in Santana's world, meant that he would come if she called.

That's why she decided to save Alphonse's life back in Afghanistan. Because he was honorable, and knew some pretty damn jokes to lighten up her mood.

Santana had lied to Xavier. She _was _a selfish bitch.

* * *

_"Why didn't you tell me sooner?!" _Santana backed away from her phone as soon as her mother started screeching. She knew this was coming._"Are you okay? Did you arrive safely? Where are you going to stay? Where **are **you now? Damnit, Santana, so help me if you-"_

_"¡Mami!" _Santana pinched the bridge of her nose, thankful that she as able to cut off her mother's frantic grilling._ "I'm fine, mami. I arrived safe and sound. In fact, I'm taking a cab right now. I just wanted to know if I should tell the poor man to go to a hotel or tell him to step on the gas and home." _She heard a snort on the other side of the phone.

_"What kind of things are you saying? Did the army make you stupid, girl? Get your ass here!" _Santana smirked and indicated to the extremely confused driver where he should go after her mother gave her directions.

_"Santana?" _The Latina lifted one curious eyebrow at her mother's soft tone.

_"Yes, mami?"_

_"Welcome back, bebé." _Santana let out a steady breath and smiled.

_"I'm back, mom."_

It would take a while to get accustomed to the idea that not everyone around her were part of a damn Counter Strike scheme, but she could finally make peace with the fact that she, Santana Lopez, wouldn't have to risk her life anymore. She wouldn't have to rescue more dying soldiers, nor fail at it. No more eating canned -and mostly expired- food, or sleep in a tent or the floor, or have do-it-yourself bombs in her pockets. No more calling Quinn or her mom before a particularly dangerous mission, or after them to let them know she was alive.

No more missing Brittany.

* * *

**Brittany**

"Daddy, can we go to meet the Glee club?" The plate on Brittany's hands crashed on the floor. Matthew threw her a nasty glare before answering his daughter.

"We will see, Charlize." Neither Brittany nor Charlie liked it when Matt called the blonde in such a formal way. It wasn't the name itself but the manners he used, as if it was the eighteenth century. "Did you do your homework?" When Charlie answered with a quiet 'no', he frowned and sent her away to do it in her room.

Brittany was picking up the pieces on the floor when she felt a boot on her hand. She swallowed the pain down. She didn't want Charlie finding them like this once she heard her scream. But it was so hard not to let it out, specially with the little pieces of glass cutting through her hand. Matthew rarely got this violent, and it was usually a few days before the Glee club meetings. But Brittany knew why. He was afraid of Santana showing up one day and taking them away from him. Matthew was a very insecure and sick man. His insecurities made him prone to jealous fits on random occasions. In fact, if Santana was mentioned, he tended to go ballistic. It had been like that since the day she had accidentally told him about her relationship with Santana, which he had had no idea about until her blabbermouth told him.

"Did you get her to ask me about that?" The man shuffled his foot on her hand. Brittany did not cry out. "You know how much I hate it when you use our daughter like that. Do you seriously want her around those misfits?" He lifted his foot and helped her up in a rather rough manner. "I care about us, honey. I really do." Brittany doubted that to a certain extent, but she wasn't about to tell him that. So long as he didn't do anything to her daughter, she would take anything. "We can go." He grounded. "But this will be the last Glee meeting we will attend to. No more risking ourselves." He let her go, grabbed his jacket and walked out of the house. Probably to work. Brittany didn't care. As long as he was away...

She spent the next hour nursing her hand back to health.

She had to tell someone. She just had to. She was no stupid woman. She knew that Matthew had connections, the good an the bad kind. With their upcoming child and Charlie, she couldn't up and go just like that. She couldn't sue him either. With no job and no one to help her take care of her children, she couldn't win. She couldn't tell her friends; they wouldn't believe her and even if they did, Matthew would find a way to fuck it up in a way, or fuck her up. She had tried once, and he lost it, threatening to take Charlie away and never come back.

She sighed and texted Quinn the news -obviously avoiding the fact that it would be the last meeting she would attend to.

The response was immediate. Quinn had sent a 'squeal' in bold letters. Brittany couldn't help but laugh and reply in the same childish manner.

Her day, as grey as it was, was starting to look up.

* * *

Well, there it goes. Honestly, I'm not expecting much from this pilot at the moment. It's just my idea portrayed in writing, but reviews are appreciated. Any questions or suggestions may be submitted through reviews or PM.

One last detail. I am very fluent in Spanish -it is my first language- but I don't feel the need to bother you all with an explanation of what I write in Spanish at the end of each chapter, so every conversation in a different style is a conversation in another language.


	2. Chapter 2

Alright, I'm not sure if this is going to work. I've been meaning to update this but there was a type two error. Instead I had to replace an old chapter I had saved with this one. Has anyone else had this problem before?

* * *

**Santana**

The drive home was longer than usual. Then again, she did make the mistake of telling the driver that she was in no particular hurry, and he took full advantage of that fact. She was not about to tell him off, though. She took her sweet time to watch her surroundings and take in all the changes -the few there were- and breathe the vaguely familiar scent of Lima, Ohio.

It was exactly like she had left it ten and a half years before: untouched.

The park still had the same games (and it kind of freaked her out how pristine they seemed), the same amount of sand and even the same damn vegetation. She could even make out the S&B carved in one of the trees if she squinted her eyes enough. She could have even swore that the lake had the same ducks if that just wasn't genetically impossible. Maybe all the ducks looked the same.

The houses still had that 'American Dream' appearance that used to sicken her so much. It still annoyed her that they all looked alike and could only be told apart by the numbers on the plaques. And they all had the same damn petite dogs that barked all the time and pissed her off. At least in Afghanistan she wouldn't get to see those overly-hairy white rats.

And then she passed her old high school and caught a glimpse of her old teacher Mr. Shue, who was yelling at some cheerleader for what Santana guessed was the slushie-covered nerd at their side. But when Sue Sylvester came to defend her Cheerio? That's when Santana threw discretion out of the window and yelled at the driver to 'stop this damn can on wheels!'.

She practically opened the door out of its hinges and walked decisively to the group, not before warning the driver against any kind of indiscretion on his behalf. Her bag had her personal papers, and she would be damned twice if she let some wannabe Ms Daisy's driver take them.

Unsurprisingly, Sue Sylvester had aged like a damn mummy (That is, not so much). She still had that authoritative aura and the calculating eyes of an eagle, and now, with Santana's training, she could see the vague outline of a soldier in old Sue Sylvester, ready to pounce on her enemy. Maybe not all those crazy-ass stories she used to try to scare them with were lies. Maybe, and just maybe, Sue _had_ gone through the horrors of a soldier's life in combat.

"-Unacceptable! Tell them off my kids!" Santana smirked as she hid among the crowd of teenagers, watching the interaction. Shue, without any doubt, was still trying after ten long years to get Sue off of his back. And, if Santana guessed right, Sue was still trying to end Glee Club with her nutjob plans that almost never worked. Because, lets accept it, Glee Club was full of lucky people. And Sue was a tad bit too crazy to succeed.

"Sure. Will you finally end Glee Club?" Sue asked nonchalantly as she crossed her arms. Shue looked positively furious.

"What? How many times do I have to repeat myself? Never!" Sue shrugged her shoulders and relaxed her stance, seemingly not interested in the conversation anymore. Then Santana caught her eyes glancing at her ever so subtly and smirked.

"Then I guess my Cheerios can do as they please with their beverages." She turned around and walked away from the crowd, heading towards the football field.

After Mr. Shue and the rest of the onlookers left, Santana walked ahead, following Sue's steps with caution until she finally arrived to her destination.

"Sandbags." Was Sue's casual greeting, though Santana could see a small smile playing at her lips. "You live, I see." Santana shrugged, not really wanting to go into detail at the moment. Sue understood, probably having gone through the same as the Latina.

"I just came to say hi." They stared at each other for a minute or two in silence.

"Or we could skip the useless pleasantries and go to my house for a cup of coffee." Santana smiled as she slid her hands into her uniform's pockets, nodding her head in acceptance.

"I'd like that."

* * *

**Brittany**

She couldn't help but bounce on seat as they arrived Lima. Luckily, Matt was far too concentrated on the road to pay any attention to the blonde and scowl at her behavior like he usually did.

From the passenger seat, she curiously peeked through the windows. A pleasant smile played at her lips as she divised Breadstix, fondly remembering easier days when she and her friends would get out of school and just hag out there. Her smile lessened as she remember a certain Latina.

But before she could delve deeper into that thought her phone rang. She immediately recognized it as Quinn's ringtone.

When she answered, she couldn't help but smile giddily as she heard the distinctive voice of Quinn yelling profanities at Puck for something he had done. There was a smacking sound and a yelp, then Quinn's huffing voice came through. "Britt?"

The blonde giggled, "Hi, Quinn."

"Where are you guys?" Brittany looked around, trying to recognize the place.

"Well, we passed by Breadstix just now. We're going to my parents, then we'll see you at the meeting."

"Oh, alright. Is Charlie coming too?" Brittany nodded her head, then she noticed Matt's scowl, reminding her that Quinn couldn't see her.

"Yes, she is."

A few pleasantries later they hung up. She turned around her seat to check on Charlie, who was still sound asleep on the backseat, her PSP hanging loosely from her hand. Brittany felt her heard flutter at the sight. Sometimes she just couldn't believe that something so precious had come from her and Matt (specially Matt).

"What did she want?" Matt grunted out, still focused on the road. Brittany fiddled with her thumbs as she looked out of the window. Just ten blocks more and she'd be at her parent's home.

"She wanted to know where we were and if we'd bring Charlie with us." Matt nodded before pulling over. Brittany felt herself tense. They were only four blocks away now, and Matt pulling over didn't suit well with her. She could at least take comfort over the fact that he wouldn't be able to do anything too crazy. Any mark and her parents would flip.

"Wake Charlize up. Please." It was nearly spat, but it was the best Brittany could get from him.

Looking at her daughter, she felt a pang of guilt for doing this. The little girl had been a bit too excited during the trip, so she ended up sleeping almost five hours after her usual time. It's not as if Brit hadn't tried to calm her down, because she certainly did, but she hadn't done a good job as she too was overly excited over the prospect of seeing the Glee Club.

Because she had been 'sick' the previous year, and by sick she meant one of those times that Matt's fists got out of hand, she couldn't assist, and it stung deeply. Apparently she had missed Mike proposing to Tina and Artie getting drunk and kissing the bride-to-be later, which ended up in argument one more time. Nothing new in a Glee meeting, really.

"Char, honey," Brittany caressed away a few strands of hair, stuck to her daughter's sweaty forehead. Britt frowned. Matt shouldn't have turned the heater up. It wasn't even cold; he just hated the wind. "Char, please wake up? For mommy?" Britt would have tickled her daughter. She would have woken her up with a smile and hot chocolate. Maybe even some candy if it was a weekend and they could afford the sugar-high.

But even though this was a weekend (Friday, actually) she couldn't do all those little things for her precious daughter. And it was just wrong because she couldn't do all those things in front of the girl's own father. Matt didn't like it for some stupid reason Britt couldn't really understand or wanted to.

Charlie stirred, "Mom?" Britt traced her thumbs over her cheek, frowning as she felt the heat on them. "What is it?"

"Charlize," Matt called before Brittany could answer. "Listen to me." Charlie opened her groggy eyes. Matt figured that was about the best he could get from her.

"Dad?" Matt ignored her.

"We're going to see your grandparents first. It's twelve already and you should have been up since seven." He reprimanded, his tone firm and bitter. "I want you to leave your things with your grandparents so we can have breakfast . Then you will wash up, tie up your hair like you should, do your homework and _then_ we'll go to the... Glee meeting." The words barely left his lips in a forced whisper.

Charlie frowned. She hated to tie her hair, but her father always insisted she did it. She didn't like the itchy feeling she got when he made her tie her blonde mane in a tight bun.

Still, she knew better than to angry her father, so she just nodded. In exchange, Matt nodded his head in apparent satisfaction.

"Brittany," When Matthew rounded his dull brown eyes on her, the blonde couldn't help but tense. "You know our deal." He leaned in and whispered into her ear. "Say one word and you will never see Charlize again."

Defeated, Brittany nodded her head in submission.

Inside, she was screaming.

* * *

**Santana**

The Latina hummed as she inspected the cup of coffee in her left hand.

"What kind of shitty brand is this?" Her disgust was obvious. She placed the cup back on the small coffee table. "Never pegged you for buying something that tastes like ass." Across her, Sue was sipping her own cup of coffee. Santana gagged.

"It's an acquired taste, sandbags," She sipped. "They call it Kopi Luwak. It's made of the Asian palm civet's excretion." Santana backed away into her chair, gaping in horror at the cup. Her disbelieving glare turned to Sue for a brief moment.

"You gave me _shit_?!" Sue glared back.

"I gave you a taste of the most expensive coffee in the world." Santana, however, wouldn't back down from the fact that Sue Sylvester had actually fed her with excrements from some animal.

"You still gave me shit!" Santana glared at the coffee. How could people charge money from some coffee that came out of a monkey's anus?

Sue rolled her eyes, unimpressed. She knew that Santana wouldn't appreciate the coffee. She was just too simplistic for that.

"Anyway, Lopez," Santana's gaze turned curious. "What are you doing here? Last thing I heard, you were on your way of becoming Captain. Pretty impressive, I must say." She sounded as proud as Santana had ever heard her.

The Latina cleared her throat, "I'm a Major now, actually." She smirked cockily, pointing to her medals and suddenly wondering what Sue Sylvester's rank was. In fact, she wondered in which year she had served. Maybe Vietnam was no stranger to Sue.

The coach whistled lowly, "Again, impressive. But I guess I'm not really surprised." Santana asked why. "Well, I wouldn't have helped you get in if I didn't think you had what it takes." The Latina almost blushed at the compliment. "Another year and I'm sure they would have promoted you to Lieutenant Colonel. Hell, even one of the Generals." Sue nodded to herself, placing her cup back on the table and looking straight into Santana's brown eyes. "Ten years, Lopez. What the hell happened to you?"

Santana lowered her head, contemplating the best way to tell Sue about her life. Straightforward seemed to be the smartest idea. The woman would call the bullshit flag if Santana even tried to deceive her.

"Where do I start?" Sue leaned back to get her cup and, like the best sailor, she drank all of it in one big gulp. Santana grimaced.

"The army made you stupid, Lopez? The beginning of course."

Santana told her everything, from the reason of her leaving (which Sue knew already) to the last mission, when she decided she wanted a change in life. A chance at life, to be more accurate. She told her about Afghanistan, Holly Holliday and her deceased comrades. She blurted out her soul to the woman in front of her, who just listened to the Latina and, much to her relief, didn't ask questions. She just listened and _understood_. Because as much as Santana loved Quinn to pieces, the blonde would never be able to understand Santana and her struggles, not like she needed her to.

"Well, sandbags, I don't know you but I sure need another cup of coffee." Santana snorted, not caring about her watering eyes. She just felt too good to care at the moment.

"Unlikely. Here, you can keep mine." Sue shrugged, then drowned down the Latina's cup. "Disgusting. Why don't you have beer like normal people?" Sue's eyes darkened.

"Because if I got drunk I couldn't aim well enough to the head."

And Santana just nodded.

Then, after five minutes of reminiscing, Santana broke the silence with a smirk and what would undoubtedly be the most ridiculous idea Sue had ever heard _and_ considered.

"Come to the Glee meeting with me."

* * *

**Rachel**

It had been a tedious day in Rachel Berry's life. She had woken up at her usual hour to perform her daily routine, as usual. But it was only after her afternoon shower and chord exercises that her day took a turn for the weird.

**Unknown**: _Still trying to wake the dead, I see._

Rachel frowned, hesitating just for a moment before answering with the expected from someone who just received a message from an unknown number.

_Who is this?_

**Unknown:** _I'm wounded, Rachel. You'd think my persona would be branded in your memory by now._

The singer scowled, albeit curious by this person who, apparently, knew her.

_Again, who are you?_

**Unknown: **_Let's play a game. I'll give you three hints and you'll figure it out on your own._

Rachel was about to type her negative answer when another message came.

**Unknown:** _We got emotional together once._

**Unknown:**_ I know you're completely gay for Fabray._

Rachel gasped as a blush crept to her face.

**Unknown:**_ You like grape slushies. So do I._

The diva stared at her screen in utter confusion. What kind of stupid hints were those? Maybe one of her friends were playing a prank on her, because she was certain only a few of them knew of her... infatuation with the other blonde.

And grape slushies, really? After highschool she wasn't particularly fond of the idea of slushies, no matter their flavor.

Her phone buzzed again.

**Unknown:** _You have three hours. If I win, you owe me dinner at Stix._

And Rachel Berry never backed down from a challenge, even if they were being made by complete strangers, who may or mat not be complete creeps waiting to hit the back of her head and kidnap her.

_Deal._

So she said, but by the time the clock struck three, her mind was still blank. She checked her watch and huffed. Twenty minutes late. She supposed she _should_ have known it was a prank. Then, as she was walking away from her parents' house and headed towards McKinley to prepare the auditorium, where the meeting would take place, a voice ringed in her ears.

"Time up, Berry. Geez, you sure are slow." Rachel whipped her head to her left just in time to catch a rather cocky-looking Santana Lopez, sitting on top of a black motorbike.

"S-S-" Rachel wanted to pinch herself. There was just no way Santana Freakin' Lopez was in front of her. But, when she glanced into those warm, chocolate orbs, she realized she couldn't be further from the truth. This was Santana Lopez, and she was as alive and kicking as they came.

And breathtaking, Rachel noticed with a small blush.

"Easy there, Rach." The Latina dismounted her bike and approached her cautiously. "Nice car." She nodded her head to Rachel's ride. "Broadway money, I assume?" Dry-tongued, Rachel merely nodded. "Cool."

There was an awkward silence, cut short by Santana, who was starting to look tired instead of annoyed like Rachel was expecting. "Let me come with you and I'll explain, yeah?" The diva nodded again, feeling light-headed. Santana smirked, not sure if she was in such a state because of her surprise or her appearance. Maybe a bit of both. She'd have to thank Sue later for leaning her non-military clothes and letting her crash at her place. The simple blue jeans and leather jacket were less intimidating than her uniform and attracted less people.

"Come on, Berry. We gotta catch up." The Latina threw her a helmet and before she could protest over her hair being ruffled, the Latina forced it on her head with a swift movement of her hands. For a brief moment, Rachel saw the scars on her inner arms. She chose not to comment on them.

"Hold on." Was all Rachel heard before her own scream was ripped out of her throat when the Latina made small stunt with the back wheel. She was sure half of Lima heard her yelling and cursing.

And that was how Rachel Berry's short-lived crush on Santana Lopez died.

"Are you trying to kill me?!" She screamed in hysterics as soon as they arrived at the gates. Santana shrugged as she dismounted her bike. Rachel couldn't have missed the gleeful smirk on her face.

"If I did I would have dropped your ass on the road as soon as you got your banshee screaming out." Santana rolled her eyes. "Relax, Berry." She caught Rachel's helmet with ease. "I come in peace." Rachel eyed her up and down, dubious.

"You didn't call anymore." She acussed.

Santana smiled sheepishly, "Sorry." Rachel's glare was heated, obscured by the tears that were threatening to fall.

"Sorry doesn't cut it. Just because Quinn and I had a rough time doesn't mean you had to actually choose a side!" Tears started to spill. Santana looked around frantically. Fortunately, school had ended early today, so it was just them in a desolated parking lot at four o'clock.

"I know." She answered solemnly, stretching her arms wide and letting the distressed diva run into them and nuzzle her chest. "I'm sorry, Rach. I'm really fucking sorry." The diva nodded her head against her jacket. Santana decided it was not a good time to point out she was ruining it and that Sue would surely skin them alive when she found out.

"What were all those hints anyway? Couldn't you just come to me like a normal human being?" Asked the diva once they separated, though Santana kept her hand on the diva's lower back.

"My first hint. We sang So Emotional together." Rachel's face lighted up at the memory. "My second hint, well, that's quite obvious, I think." The diva blushed as she groaned. Only a handful of people knew about her and Quinn, and sometimes she regretted ever telling the Latina, who would take any chance to tease them. "My third hint. Back when I was a complete douche to you and before I ruined slushies for you, we did like grape the best. You confessed so."

"Still, you could have come to my house instead of making me think I had a stalker or something." Santana laughed good heartedly.

"Yeah, stupid move from me, I know." Santana decided to risk it and kissed Rachel's forehead. The diva didn't complain. "I do love making a dramatic entrance, though." The Latina smirked widely as Rachel shook from contained giggles.

"You do know you're going to cause a scene today, right?" Santana nodded, finally separating herself from the smaller woman.

"We have much to discuss, Berry. Starting on what the Hell happened between you and Quinn. She wouldn't tell me anything." Rachel's face turned bitter as she averted her gaze elsewhere.

"Of course she wouldn't." She whispered, sounded sad and dejected. Santana frowned as she wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her to the school.

"Well, you can tell me at our dinner tonight." Rachel swatted her arm, but didn't pull out of the embrace.

"Fine." She huffed. "But you _will_ tell me about the time I missed out on you!" Santana nodded in acceptance. She owed Rachel that much.

"When does the meeting start?" Rachel checked her watch and answered.

"At seven in the auditorium." She let Santana take a glimpse of the hour. Four-thirty. Perfect.

"I'll help out while we catch up a bit. Is anyone coming early to help as well?" Rachel shook her head. She wouldn't let anyone help her, even though a few had offered. "Good. It'll give us time to prepare my grand entrance." Rachel laughed gleefully.

"Have you considered joining Broadway?"

* * *

**Santana**

After a quick message to her mother, explaining that she would be there at night and not to worry, she finally let herself relax.

Rachel was talking to Mr. Shue, who had yet to see Santana standing nonchalantly against one of the walls. Her dark clothes made her blend with the colours, so it would have been hard to see her unless you were actually looking for her.

She observed her old teacher. He had aged nicely, she supposed. Gone with the vests, he now stuck to wearing simple shirts and denims. His hair was lighter, signaling the slow transformation to a grayer shade. Aside from all this, he was the same man she had known ten years before.

When Rachel finally ushered him out of the auditorium, she turned to Santana and smiled pleasantly. The Latina easily smiled back. Being with Rachel was almost refreshing. Though she wouldn't admit it out loud any time soon and risk being embarrassed in front of the diva.

"They should be arriving soon." Rachel gushed in excitement. Then she paused. "Are you sure you want to do this? Quinn told me that Brittany is coming with her-" She squared her shoulders uncomfortably. "With her family." She glanced at Santana, who merely shrugged a lazy shoulder, unemotional.

"No need to worry, Rach. I know about Britt. Quinn talks often about her, so it's not like I know she has the perfect husband and the two children in LA." Santana hung her head as she crossed her arms and gripped them with her hands. "I know all about it. And I'm happy for her, to be honest." She pushed herself away from the wall and walked to Rachel, who was now looking at her in a strange mix of awe and pity.

"You still love her, San." It wasn't a question. It was as much of an statement as it could be. "How can you just sit and watch her? It must be horrible." Santana sat beside her, focusing her gaze on the stage. Remembering the past one again.

"It's because I love her that I can watch her be happy." She turned to Rachel with a sad smile. "Even if it's not me that makes her happy."

"I think she loves you." Rachel said after a minute of silence. "No. I'm pretty secure about the fact that she never got over you. Every time we bring you up in a conversation, you just know it. The way her face twists in pain for a second- That's not sisterly love, Santana." The Latina, however, wouldn't get her hopes up.  
"Even if she did love me, she has a family now. And I refuse to destroy that." She stated firmly.

"What happened between you two, San?" Rachel asked in a whisper, reaching out and taking Santana's calloused right hand in hers. "Just what happened? I was so sure you two would be together forever."

It was right then that Santana broke down in sobs, clutching at Rachel's hands.

"I- She-" But nothing could come out of her mouth. Rachel understood that she needed time, so she did what she could and hugged the Latina to her. Time had surely changed them. If someone had told Rachel ten years ago that she'd be hugging Santana Lopez and crying along with her without caring how it would affect her make up and Broadway-star image, she would have laughed in their face and recommend them a shrink.

"San?" Rachel asked after the Latina calmed down. "Lets go cleaned up, yeah? We wouldn't want them to see you like this after ten years, would we?" Santana managed a small laugh as they stood up and headed to the nearest bathroom.

"Thanks, Rach." The diva shook her head at her. "You still owe me dinner, though."

"You're lucky. Breadstix is going to close down in a month."

"SAY WHAT?!"

* * *

**Brittany**

"Aunt Quinn!" Charlie let go of her mother's hand and rushed to the other blonde, who lifted her up in her arms and hugged her tightly to her body.

"Gosh, Charlie! You've gotten so tall!" The blonde gushed as she settled the girl on the floor and inspected her from head to toe. "You're going to be taller than mommy soon." It was actually quite possible, given that Brittany and Matt had the same height.

The little girl just beamed when Quinn said that, accepting the pat to her head before running off to greet the few members that had arrived.

"Hey, Britt." Quinn hugged the blonde briefly before waving to Matt. He returned the gesture half-heartedly, before going to Charlie and leaving the blonde along. Quinn took the chance to drag Brittany to some chairs.

"Look at you! She's gotten so big now!" Quinn caressed the other blonde's stomach happily. "How far along are you now?" Brittany couldn't help but beam at her as she too patted her stomach.

"Six months now." Quinn smiled at her, happy that her best friend was doing so well.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" Brittany nodded, biting on her lower lip as she looked around, making sure no one was listening to their conversation. They weren't. They were too focused cooing at Mike and Tina's newborn.

"Isabella." Quinn's eyes widened in recognition.

"Santana's aunt?" She yelled in a whisper. "Does Matt know?" Brittany shook her head hastily, glancing at her husband, who was busy watching after her eldest daughter.

"He can't know. You know how he gets when Santana is mentioned. He wouldn't let me name her if he did." Quinn had to concede that it was good logic. Matthew had always been really insecure about Santana. She wasn't sure why, though. Sure, she had been Brittany's first and true love, but it wasn't as if the blonde would cheat on him. She _had_ chosen Matt over Santana almost ten years ago. Quinn never knew why, and both her friends would immediately change the subject if she asked, so she learned not to ask.

"Wasn't Rachel supposed to be the first here?" Brittany asked, hoping to distract Quinn with the new topic. "I mean, it _was_ her handwriting we saw on that welcome banner at the entrance." Quinn ducked her head at the mention of the diva.

"I don't know, I didn't-"

"OH MY GOD!" It was the scream of Tina that made them jump from their seats and rush towards where all the Glee members were gathering in a circle.

As Brittany and Quinn approached them, they started getting a good view of what the chaos was about. They were all standing there, rooted to their spots, with mouths hanging wide, but they still couldn't see what it was that they were gaping at. It didn't help that Puck, Mike and David Karofsky, who had come as a special guest, were the ones blocking their view.

"Hey, guys." Both blondes froze over as they heard the familiar voice. It was raspy and warm, with a distinctive tinge of nervousness as it spoke.

Quinn pushed Puck aside as she and Brittany squeezed in and finally got a good look at the Latina.

"Britt..." Warm, chocolate eyes softened considerably as they fell on the blonde, who looked like she had seen a ghost.

"San..."

* * *

Glee does not belong to me. The few fictional characters that you will spot along the story are.

Now edited...


	3. Chapter 3

Wow, you guys are awesome. I like it that you spoil me with the reviews, really. And to that guest who used an unecessary amount of irony to say my idea is not original- Well, I challenge you to write _anything _that is completely original in FF. No, really. Amuse me. I know it's a possible but extremely difficult task, but if you think you can do better then _do so._

Sorry, angry moment. I'm over it.

Updated on 03/05/2014

* * *

**Glee**

After their arrival from the bathroom and Tina's less than subtle announcement of their presence, they became suddenly aware of the metaphorical elephant in the room, right after Quinn and Brittany cut through the circle of people surrounding them.

Rachel's worried gaze scanned over Santana, who had all but frozen in her place as soon as she saw Brittany. And it was no surprise, really, that after so many years and probably zero contact, they still called out to each other in such longing way.

"Britt..."

"San..."

Everybody just stood there, watching in awe as the former inseparable power-couple reunited after ten long years. But above all, they were shocked at the Latina's presence in the room for the first time in so many years.

They were probably noticing, as Rachel did before, the superficial changes the fiery woman had undergone while she was away: the roughed up hands; the small scars scattered around her body -or what little they could see of it-; the deep, dark eyes obscured by experience and wisdom; the small, guarded smile she wore.

Or in Noah's words, "Damn, you're _hot_, Lopez!" And the man swung his arm around the woman's shoulders, smirking and leaning carefully over her.

But before he could open his mouth to flirt with the Latina, she plucked the arm off of her and swatted his stomach, smirking back as he pouted.

"Nice to see you're still a child, Puckerman." Her raspy voice sent shivers up more than one back. Rachel definitely saw a few of her friends and former colleagues have obvious reactions to her. Such as Puck's visible arousal and Sam's cloudy eyes.

The real problem, however, was Brittany. Rachel couldn't help but feel for the blonde. Sure, they were never real friends to begin with, and she even suspected that she was more at fault for the fallout than the Latina, though neither had spoken about it to anyone. Not even Quinn, their childhood friend and pseudo-sister, knew the exact details of Santana's disappearance and Brittany's choosing of Matthew, whom Rachel had no connection to whatsoever. She always tried to stay away from him. He gave off a weird vibe; it made Rachel uncomfortable and, she dare say, insecure.

"You stupid idiot!" Quinn launched herself at the Latina, who easily caught her in her trained arms and swung her around. "Gosh, San! I thought you weren't coming back yet?" Rachel couldn't help but notice that, as Quinn gushed out her excitement, Brittany stood in front of the pair, and her soft, confused gaze was slowly turning into a heated gaze, aimed, surprisingly, at Quinn.

Rachel's eyes widened, mouth slightly open. She glared at Santana and Quinn. _Of course they wouldn't tell Brittany. _She mentally facepalmed. _I'm surrounded by idiots. _She glanced at Brittany's fuming form again. _That's it. They're dead._

"Yeah, I wanted to surprise you guys. Got Holly to release me early." Quinn squealed as she squeezed her best friend.

"Holly, huh?" Puck cut in, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Rachel wished she didn't know what was coming. "Is she your... _special _lady?" Santana tensed in Quinn's arms. The Latina slowly retreated and gave Puck her best glare, which had only been intensified in the battlefield.

"Let me get this clear- for all of you," She glanced around the Glee members -and Karofsky-, pointedly ignoring Brittany. _Too soon, _she thought. "My life is none of your business unless I allow you to make it so. That includes my reasons for leaving." She added quickly as soon as she saw Kurt opening his mouth.

"Whatever happened will be discussed with those involved. And that's _if _they we to talk about it." She shrugged out of her leather jacket and hung it on her arm.

Sensing another minute of deafening silence coming, Rachel sighed and dragged Santana away by her hand. The Latina dutifully followed her, knowing that it was for the best to get away and cool down before she had a heart attack at her first Glee meeting.

"Well, that went well," The diva started once they sat down. Santana groaned as she rested her head on her palm.

"Just another day in Santana Lopez's life." The Latina joked lightly, glancing ever so subtly at Brittany, who was busy speaking with Quinn and didn't notice her.

"Your life must suck then," Rachel answered playfully. "So, please tell me what was all that tension back there?" She tilted her head and lifted an eyebrow. Santana lowered her head on her hand and rubbed her forehead.

"I'll explain it all at Stix, alright?" She sighed, defeated. Now would have been a perfect time to take a smoke. She shouldn't have quit in the first place. She already knew there would be a shitstorm waiting at home once she came back from service and faced- well, everything, really.

"Ah, yes. I did lose, so I suppose it will be my treat?" It was a dubious question. Rachel didn't know whether Santana would allow her to pay for the expenses. She had always known her as too prideful and stubborn.

However, the Latina proved her wrong, "Sure thing, babe." She winked in an exaggerated manner, and Rachel just had to laugh. "Maybe if you behave, you'll get a little treat at night." The diva laughed the comment off before shoving her friend.

"You're so crass, Satan." Their laughter dropped, but not the smiles. They didn't have to turn to know that Quinn was right behind them, smiling fondly at the scene playing in front of her. Santana snorted inwardly, fully aware that the blonde wouldn't have had the guts to talk to Rachel without her being present. She made a mental note to ask Rachel about that later.

"And you're still a prude, Tubbers." Rachel hit her arm rather strongly. She had never liked the way Santana used her wit and silver tongue for verbal abuse, much less with Quinn, even if the blonde often reciprocated in kind. It was still a wonder she was taken in the army and managed to stay alive at all.

"May I?" The blonde pointed at the seat in front of them. She didn't have to wait long. Santana herself stood up from her seat and walked calmly towards the one Quinn had pointed to, leaving the blonde with only one choice.

Both her friends glared at her before not so subtly taking a quick glance at each other. Santana smirked smugly.

"So," Rachel was the first to speak, unsurprisingly. "What are you going to do now? Because, I know a friend who may be able to get you an interview if-" Santana stopped her right there, already sensing a tirade coming. Time had managed to tame Rachel's mouth a bit, but never fully. Luckily she had learned to detect those few moments where the diva would slip.

"I already have a job, Berry." She ignored the confused look the diva sent her and Quinn's heated glare. "Thanks for the offer, though. Real sweet."

"You just arrived. What are you going to work as?" She sounded sincerely curious, and Santana immediately regretted her rather plain choice of words when she explained to Rachel that she was still working in the army.

"Absolutely not!" A chair was knocked back and everything. All the other Glee members stood by and listened to the conversation with interest. "You're not going back to that hell hole ever again, Santana Lopez! Over my dead, rotting-"

"Rachel, wait-" The diva let out a frustrated shriek as she reached over and took the Latina by the collar of her shirt. Santana found this incredibly amusing. Her miniature hands barely clasped it in the right way.

"Shut up!" They all backpedaled at her tone. "I have had it with you and your stupid army and your stupid suicide missions. You're just-" Santana felt the small hands on her collar loosening. "You can't just _go_."

Santana grabbed Rachel's hands in her own and set them on the table. She would have laughed at the confusion, but she sensed it wasn't a good time to joke around. Not with Rachel about to become a sobbing mess, and Quinn's worried gaze, and Brittany so close to them she could smell her delicious perfume from where she was sitting.

"I'm not going anywhere," She licked her dry lips and explained with as much gentleness she could muster. "I am- I've reached a point in the army where I can choose where to go," _Unless there's a full-blown war_, but she wasn't about to tell them that just yet. "They're going to give me a list of places where I can be stationed at. I'm getting a full-time desk job in the army, but I'm ont going back to the battlefield any time soon, Berry. So just sit your ass and relax, cuz you'll get to see more of this hot piece of a woman." She winked.

"That's-"

"Excuse me?" Santana almost jumped on her seat when Brittany's little girl called, tugging at her shirt with with eager jerks. Sue would _kill _her later for letting her clothes be manhandled like this.

"Y-Yes?" She had seen Charlize in pictures Quinn sent her against her protests, so she at least knew what to expect when she encountered the little blonde. However, she did not expect her to be just like Brittany at that age. It was like going back twenty-five years in the past. A small part of Santana was relieved that she didn't look like her father. The little blonde was all Brittany and no Matthew Brown.

Speaking of which, she couldn't help but be consciously aware of his eagle-like gaze from the moment she stepped into the auditorium. She hadn't turned to see him yet (didn't want to), but her years on the edge had taught her a few tricks. Some may call it paranoia, but she was no fool. Not anymore. And Matthew Brown had hated her guts even before she parted. It seemed he hadn't stopped hating her, though she didn't know why. He got the girl; he got the family; he got a nice, stable job. What else could he possibly want?

"You are Santana, yes?" Charlize tilted her head to her side and played with her ponytail, which seemed to be a little too tight on the little girl's head. She tugged softly at it, trying to relieve the tension. Santana frowned, but didn't scowl. She didn't want to scare the girl away on their first meeting.

"I am." Perfect teeth showed, and she was happy to see Charlize tentatively giving a smile back. It was small, but it was better than anything.

She was surprised to feel a pair of thin arms wrap around her. She could only guess what her face was, if Rachel's laugh and Quinn's snickers were anything to go by.

"Welcome back." With that, the little girl kissed her cheek quickly and scrambled away to play with a few of her aunts and uncles.

Santana just sat there, dumbly touching her cheek and trying to understand just what had happened. Quinn took pity on the poor, confused soldier.

"Brittany tells her stories about you." Her eyes almost bulged out. Quinn smiled softly. "You're Charlie's hero, San. Brittany made sure of that."

It took less than a minute for Santana to process the information. She took a deep, shaky breath and straightened her stance. She nodded her head politely at the pair in front of her and finally gathered the courage to do what she had intended to from the beginning.

"Brittany?" She called softly to the woman. The blonde turned, as did the rest of the Glee Club. And Matthew. "Can we-" She licked her lips. "Can we talk?" Her hopeful tone didn't go unnoticed. She saw hurt, confusion, happiness and a small amount of sadness flicker in the blonde's eyes. Santana knew that this was _the _moment. Brittany had the final say. And if she did agree, would they be able to look past their old mistakes and start over?

Millions of possibilities ran through Santana's head. She had missed her best friend so much. As the years passed, she had started forgetting about the little details she used to know like the palm of her hand. Like Brittany's smell, her favorite flower, what condiment she put on her hot dog, which tooth had been fixed when she fell off the swings when they were seven, or the way her mouth would curl up instinctively when Santana woke her up with pepper kisses all over her neck.

It felt like she was hit by a bulldozer of memories of them together as she stared into Brittany's doubtful eyes. Santana smiled; she couldn't help herself. She just started remembering how the blonde would frown every time she did something particularly bitchy, and then she would make her do something to cancel out the bad karma. Well, Brittany wouldn't exactly make her; she would just pout and sulk until Santana caved in and did something nice. She never did something nice for those she hurt though; she couldn't risk her reputation like that. Instead she would spend her Sunday mornings and sometimes afternoons tending to sick people at the local hospital, or maybe, if she felt brave enough, she would attend to a few LGBT meetings and share her problems with her companions, helping the more insecure ones with their own issues, even when her own were unresolved.

Now, staring into Brittany's soulful eyes, Santana felt a pang of _something _fluttering in her stomach. It twisted and nagged at her, and she still couldn't quite place what it was.

"I-" She barely caught the small nod, after a few seconds of hesitance. The Latina allowed herself to smile softly. It was rather ironic, really. They had once been inseparable, the best of friends. They had been able to tell what the other was thinking without any effort, and here they were, ten years later, awkwardly looking at the other, unsure as to how to proceed.

Because Santana had no delusions. If she had changed so much, why would she expect Brittany to remain the same? It would be a dumb thought. People change constantly. Santana once read that everything in the known universe operates by a principle of constant and dynamic change. And humankind, as a microcosm of this larger universe, follows the same principle.

"Great. Cool." Santana stuttered her answer out, consciously rubbing her palms against her jeans. They were sweaty and just wouldn't stop moving. "Nice." If it wasn't for Brittany's nervous giggle, she would have slapped herself for making a fool of herself at such a critical moment. Then again, at least she didn't chicken out like she had always thought she would.

"Do you want to meet tomorrow night? I'm at my parents'. I'm sure they'd love to see you again." The Latina almost missed the words, distracted by the way the blonde bit on her lip. She half-heartedly chastised herself for leering on a married woman. Love of her life or not.

Fortunately, she was good at smooth recoveries, and anyone noticed anything suspicious they didn't mention it.

Of course, that didn't mean she didn't notice Matthew's heated glare. She would have to tread carefully then.

"Sure, I-" She back pedaled, remembering a minor detail. "I can't, sorry." She corrected herself. "I'm having diner with Rachel tomorrow." She knew she was in for it when she heard Quinn drop her cellphone. She _knew _she was under her radar now.

The real problem, though, was Brittany's deflated look. Santana hastened to correct her mistake.

"We could totally hang out on Sunday, if you want?" She offered, but her hopes were immediately crushed when the blonde shook her head slowly. Was it because of Rachel, really? Or maybe she already had plans. She was married and with children; they were visiting Britt's parents, so it was only logic that they would spend as much time as possible with them. With Brittany living in LA they probably didn't get to see the the blonde, or Charlie, that much. And she hadn't missed the baby bump either.

Santana clenched her jaw as discretely as possible. Part of her knew that it could have been her in Matt's place, had the blonde allowed it so (had _she _herself allowed it so). She felt completely powerless before the disarming blonde, and that was a feeling Santana loathed with passion. She hated this. She hated the situation they were in, and she hated the fucking little smug smile Matthew was sending her as he leaned against the wall and relaxed like he fucking owed the place.

"We're leaving then. I'm sorry," She paused. She had called Santana by her nickname in a moment of shock, but now that she was thinking clearly -or as much as possible-, she didn't know if it was still correct to address her with such familiarity. "I'm sorry," She repeated. "It seems we only have tonight." And she looked as sorry as she sounded.

She leaned on complete impulse and bravado, and, she dare say, momentary insanity, but Santana decided that this was _her _moment now. So she squared her shoulders like her superiors taught her to, and with a straightened back and her best 'business' face, she took a step towards Brittany so they were only a foot away.

"Britt, I'd like to have your number." She didn't miss a beat, and she mentally high-fived herself for leaving half the room speechless and a visibly peeved Matthew.

"San-" But the Latina wouldn't have any of it. She merely looked at Brittany with those honest eyes she used to only share with her in the intimacy of the Latina's room when they were lovers behind closed doors. When she actually cared about what they thought of her.

"That's easy!" Charlize piped up with a bright smile, scaring her mother half to death. She didn't bat an eyelash as she gave Santana her mother's number. The Latina smiled to herself, because Brittany hadn't changed her cellphone number in ten years. It was an inside joke that only the both of them understood, and Brittany seemed to remember quite well, judging by the blush on her face.

The last digits were 7268262 which, seen from a creative angle, spelt Santana.

"Thank you, Charlie." Santana beamed at her, truly thankful for the kid's quirkiness. She truly was Brittany's kid.

The small blonde smiled brightly at her before running away in Quinn's direction.

"That girl..." Brittany sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"She seems fantastic to me." Santana complimented in all honesty. "You raised her well." She chuckled nervously before pointing towards where Puck was standing. "I better go now. It's been a pleasure to see you again... Britt." She completely missed the blonde's widening smile, both at the compliment and the old nickname. She was already in a hurry to escape before the blonde could refuse to meet with her. She knew Brittany was incapable of turning her down, but she didn't want to risk it any more than she had.

* * *

After much coaxing and annoying pleading, Rachel had even managed to set up an impromptu karaoke night. They all complained, but it was good natured. They had missed the old days too much, and only got to re-live them once a year. And this was the first time _all _of them were together, so, in Rachel Berry's words, that was a window of opportunity they just _had _to take advantage of.

A few random songs later and all Hell broke loose. Puck had stepped up to sing a rather offensive song and had just started singing it to Quinn, when the second microphone flew from Rachel's hands and landed neatly on his head.

Santana would have laughed her ass of if it wasn't for the fact that drunk Puck didn't care if it was a woman or a fence. He would beat anything in his path towards a conquest when angered. So, that's how Santana found herself pinning the large man to the floor until he submitted, realizing she wouldn't budge until he calmed down.

Unfortunately, as soon as she let go of him with a glare, he lounged for Rachel, who was quite tipsy herself and tried to meet him halfway from his clumsy tackle. Santana would have to thank Sam later on, when things finally calmed down, because if it wasn't for him throwing the midget over his shoulders and carrying her towards where Quinn and Mercedes were seated, Puck would have surely bulldozed over her as if she were one of those ridiculous star stickers she used to put everywhere.

"Let me go at him!" Rachel screeched, swinging her fists awkwardly over her head. Okay, maybe she was way past tipsy. "I'll s'ow him!"

"You'll show him nothing, Berry!" Santana roared as she wrestled Puck to the floor again, wondering for a brief moment _why _no one did anything. Karofsky was still pretty huge and he was standing at the side like a Goddamned column, and she knew that Finn was a football coach. So _why _things never changed with these guys?

"Fuck." Somehow she had managed to calm Puck down. Then she glanced down and saw that she had actually knocked him out. "_Fuck._" She repeated to herself. This wasn't how she had planned things. She hadn't intended to cut his airstream!

"Man, that's so cool!" It was drunken Tina's excited shout that shook her out of her stupor.

Fortunately everyone thought that was a common maneuver in the army, so no one questioned her. The only one who looked suspicious was Matthew, but he was in the police force, so there was a small chance he knew she had had special training along the way. At least he didn't decide to make a douche move on her and tell her off. She seriously didn't want to explain what she did to a bunch of drunken gossips.

There were no more altercations after that. Their meeting ended around two in the morning and they all parted ways peacefully. A few tears and bone-crushing hugs here and there, but it was as peaceful as it could have been.

"There's no freaking way I'm letting you drive with Miss Horn-A-Lot alone," Santana lifted an unimpressed eyebrow as Rachel clinged onto Quinn. The blonde blushed, but was quick to agree with her.

"What about your bike?" The Latina shrugged without any care in the world.

"Sue will pick it up for me tomorrow." It was Quinn's turn tu show her the eyebrow.

"Tell me about it on the way." She somehow fought Rachel off of her and gave her to Santana before entering her car and opening the automatic locks for them to enter.

* * *

"-I swear on my abuela's grave that she was seriously considering coming tonight!" Santana recounted the events from the previous afternoon. Quinn snorted, playing with the cup of non-crappy coffee in her hands. and avoiding mentioning that Santana doesn't give a flying rat about her abuela's homophobic ass. They had just managed to drop Rachel at her fathers' house, and decided to crash at Quinn's hotel room for the night.

"Sue Sylvester at a Glee meeting? Get real, Lopez." She took a sip of the beverage. "Now, what's this about you and Rachel having diner?" Ah, there it was the real reason of their meeting. Santana immediately detected the jealousy and possessiveness in her voice.

"Sure thing. She and I are going to Stix tomorrow. Her treat." She smirked, loving how Quinn's lips pursed and the little twitch of her hands. "You know I'll show her a good time, Q. Don't worry-"

"She's not an object!" The blonde in front of her snapped. Santana wasn't even fazed. She knew what Quinn's reaction would be. Anything bad said about the midget and you would have to face the wrath of Fabray.

"I never said she was, Lucy." She watched with interest as the blonde flinched but didn't fight back. "Now, would you care to finally explain what the Hell happened between you two?" Again, Quinn said nothing. Santana was getting slowly but surely tired of this game. "I'm going to find out sometime, Quinn. It's going to be either you or her that will crack." She stood up, not feeling up for more arguments. "I just pray that you didn't do anything stupid. I may have been an A+ bitch to her, but you know how I get when someone hurts her. And you're no exception, Fabray." In moments like these, she'd pull out her gun and place it on the coffee table, but she doesn't have one and she's not crazy enough to pull that stunt on what she considers one of her best friends. Not to mention she would be sent to the nearest police station.

"I fucked up, San. It was all me." The only thing that stopped Santana from lashing out was the extreme amount of guilt and hurt in Quinn's eyes.

"How fucked up are we talking about?" The Latina probed. However, she soon regretted it as soon as Quinn revealed the truth.

"I got fucking pregnant, okay!"

Santana slumped against the couch, suddenly feeling legless. She banged her head against the back and let out a low sigh.

_Fuck._

* * *

I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. I don't really revise my chapters too much. Shall you find any incongruity, please informe of such.


	4. Chapter 4

Hey! News flash! I'm going to try and change the time and tense of this fic. I find it interesting to work with present simple as the main one. I think I'm also eliminating the point of views, because that was introductory for each character's situation.

* * *

They just stay there for about ten minutes, unmoving. Santana hears the heart-wrenching sobs coming from Quinn, but doesn't find it within her to comfort her friend. She's still processing what she's just been told. She's piecing everything: Rachel's miserable face, Quinn's evasive, bordering cowardly, behavior, their sudden and unexpected breakup-

Santana snaps her head up.

"The father?" She doesn't particularly care about Quinn at the moment. If anything, she's taking Rachel's side until she knows exactly what happened.

But Quinn is making it difficult, and Santana really can't use any army technique on one of her friends. Well, she _can_, but she chooses not to scare her away.

"I- I don't know." It's complete bullshit. Santana immediately spot the lie from her spot. Quinn was always a spectacular liar, but she's too nervous now, and the stuttering and frantic eyes are a dead give away.

"Quinn." The Latina gives the blonde a pointed 'are you kidding' glare.

"Fuck, Santana! Just fucking leave me alone! Fuck!" Santana squints her eyes, ignoring the outburst for the sake of their friendship. She wrecks her head, thinking about the possible baby daddies, though she comes up with nothing.

"Fine, I'll ask Rachel instead." She stands up to leave. Quinn gets on her feet as well, wobbling her way to the Latina and tackling her into a desperate hug.

"Please, San." Santana doesn't quite know what is it about Quinn's tone that stops her from leaving. She supposes it has to do with how small and vulnerable she sounds. As if she actually _needs _Santana. Or maybe she decides to stay because Quinn, no matter her faults, will always be family, and family sticks together through every shit storm comes their way.

Santana sighs heavily and wraps her arms around the blonde. She'll get her answers later when they're both calm and her mind isn't jelly.

* * *

Santana feels like a total douchebag when she parks her bike outside her parent's house the next morning. The previous night she ended up crashing at Quinn's hotel room and completely forgot about her mother and how she had promised to pay her a visit after the meeting was over and she finished talking with Rachel.

As she parks behind her father's Bentley, she spots the 'Welcome Back' banner right above the entrance. It's not extremely big, but it has been throughly decorated and her mother and sisters probably called in sick at work to make it in time just for her. When she squints her eyes, she detects a few cigarette burns at the lower corners. She smirks. That wa definitely Carmen, her older sister, who had yet to quit smoking and whose temper was three times worse than Santana's.

She can already picture it in her head. The clock hits twelve. They are all -minus her father because he's a bigger douche than Santana- waiting outside on the porch, slurping lazily on whatever beverage is in their hands. Carmen finds herself impatient and annoyed, so she takes advantage of their mother checking her cellphone every five minutes to play with her cigarettes on the banner. Rosario and Eva, her younger sisters, are probably playing poker, and Eva is practically robbing Rosario, though she doesn't particularly mind since she has the patience and care of a sloth. It's good that they have the calmest tempers of the Lopez family, because by then the table would have been flipped a dozen times. They repeat these actions for an hour.

And Santana never comes.

"Carmen is going to strangle me." She opens the side entrance. A distinctive creak echoes in the tranquility of the morning, and Santana feels even more paranoid about someone hearing the damned entrance announcing her arrival. She should tell her mother to oil it once and for all.

There's a clank, and the Latina tenses up. But a short, frantic look around reveals old Miss Hemingway on her own porch, picking up her knitting needles with the speed of a fat man on a tricycle. Santana sighs in relief; Miss Hemingway was already half-blind and almost completely deaf the last time she saw her. It's actually a wonder she's still alive and kicking. But she's an old, hardcore, die-hard nazi supporter, so she guesses that it is true when they say weed never dies. At least Santana knows she's safe since the old woman never stooped as low as to talk to either of them 'Latino scum', as she used to mumble under her dry breath.

"About damn time you got here, ye little fucker!" The first thing Santana feels after Carmen sneaks up behind her and tackles the life out of her is the power of childhood coming back to her. It's just like when they were younger, when one of them would mess up at something and manage to piss the other off in the process. They would end up rolling on the ground and throwing punches until their mother stepped in and knocked them on their heads. It was usually followed by half-hearted apologies and barking, but it was how they bonded.

"Fuck!" Santana tries to flip their position off, but Carmen is beyond anger, and she's kind of a black belt as well, so she has her trapped under her superior weight and there's nothing to do about it anymore except for the obvious, "MOMMY!"

"You little snitch!" Carmen is applying her very practiced hammerlock she's positive she saw in a professional fight not too long ago.

"MOM!" Santana tries again. She grimaces as Carmen digs her nails into her nape and arm. Woman may as well have ten mini-knives.

"_Santana Diabla and Carmen Esmeralda! You two stop acting like idiots right this instant!_" Their mother bellows in perfect Spanish, her Cuban accent heavy and melodic.

"_Mamá!_" Carmen whines, but she does get off of Santana, taking as much time as possible and adding a little kick in the end. The soldier merely grunts and takes it, knowing she deserves her sister's treatment and it's the only way to calm her down.

"_And you!_" Maribel gives Santana the pointy finger, making her cringe. Major or not, she's still her mother. "_You and I will have a very serious talk!_" The wonder about Maribel Lopez is that she doesn't need her fists to make her point. She can deliver some mean verbal smackdowns.

"Hi, sis!" Eva pops up and gives Santana a mighty hug. Santana melts, because this is her baby sister; the jewel of the family and apple of her eye. "We can talk later after mom does." She offers and Santana nods. Her eyes immediately search for Rosario, the second youngest, but she guesses that it's just way too early for her to be up, lazy woman she is.

"She won't be up until later. Oh, you can wake her up!" Eva quips happily. She's thrilled to have her sister back and alive. Her mocha orbs shine with excitement, and Santana can't help but be stunned by how much she looks like Carmen when she was seventeen. Looking around, she digests in the changes in her sisters.

Carmen, the shortest fuse in town, is now a successful translator. No one had expected the reformed skank's head to get a full scholarship in New York, but she did, and their parents were more than relieved to have college tuition payment off their shoulders, so they thanked the eldest with her own apartment, which was way cheapest than college. She breezed through her subjects, having discovered a passion for letters and meanings behind them. She was hired shortly after she graduated by a company in LA and, to this day, she's one of the best and they know it.

Soon after Santana left for the army, Rosario started highschool and became part of the track team. They know she has the talent to be anything she wants, but Rosario's plan for life is read, sleep and eat. It came as an odd, though not unwelcome, surprise when she also got a scholarship for college in New Jersey. The real shocker, however, was that she chose to be a Gym teacher, a career that required constant movement and early odd hours to exercise and keep fit. And she still passed with flying colors and got a spot in one of the most prestigious schools in LA. Carmen got teary-eyed when Rosario confessed she had first applied there so she would be close to her. And since their parents lived in awful-boring Lima, Santana was away and Eva had yet to make plans of her life, she may as well join Carmen, which wasn't so bad.

Eva was always the oddest child. Santana used to joke about her being the lost daughter of two hippies. She was just so carefree and cheerful it often eclipsed the Lopez temper. She was always a charmer, and they suppose that's the reason why she's so successful after a year of starting her own business. Eva never went to college, though she did take a few administration courses. She used her wit and charm to get to the top, so now she's the young owner of a chain of sports stores in California and Florida. Her passion is surfing, so she uses her owner special rights to get a discount on tables and hit the waves.

"Santana?" Maribel frowns, worried. "Honey?" She tries in her heavily accented English. The Latina just then notices that she's crying silently.

"Nothing. It's just," She rubs her eyes with her shirt and gives her mother a watery smile. "I really missed you all."

And somehow it becomes in a watery group hug.

* * *

**Lopez: **_Ready to eat something, Miss Hangover?_

**Berry: **_Shut up. It's not funny._

**Lopez:** _I beg to differ. You were hella funny from the moment that mic landed on Puck's head._

**Berry:**_ Shut. Up. Not talking to you. Shoo._

**Lopez:**_ Sorry, Frodo. You owe me dinner. Stix at seven?_

**Berry:**_ That's an hour away! I can't possibly find the right clothes and make up for the occasion in such short notice!_

**Lopez:**_ Geez, Berry, you'd think you had a crush on me. Should I worry?_

**Berry:**_ Shut up, Lopez. Make it seven thirty._

**Lopez:**_ Do I get a kiss if I say yes?_

**Berry:**_ Fuck you._

**Lopez:**_ Seven thirty it is!_

* * *

"You look like shit." Santana decides when the diva arrives at Stix at six thirty sharp. She herself arrived ten minutes early to have some alone time and avoid Rachel's rants about punctuality. The diva plops ungracefully in front of her and proceeds to massage her temple. Her sunglasses move up and down as she caresses her cutis.

"Why don't you, then?" Rachel pouts as she settled the glasses on the table. Santana barely stifles a laugh when she sees that Rachel's eyes are still bloodshot.

"Well, we used to drink a lot in between missions, so I guess I've grown accustomed to it. Not to mention I was had plenty of practice in highschool, unlike you." She finishes with a sardonic smirk. Rachel frowns at her.

"I sure hope you're taking it easy. Consuming too much alcohol-" Fortunately for them, the waiter brings the menus to them, not that Santana needs a menu. She knows what they serve by heart, and she knows what she'll order before she can even glance at it.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't you worry about it, dwarf." Rachel hums as a response, skimming through the three lone pages that Stix has to offer.

Two salads, five baskets of breadstix and a bottle of wine later, they know it's time to discuss much more important stuff. The dinner was nice, and they had time to catch up about tribal things. How's work? Met anyone? What does a Major do? What do you do at Broadway? and, unsurprisingly, the last one takes them about forty five minutes, so most of their meal is spent away in Rachel's babbling. Santana does not want to admit that she kind of missed it. She regrets not calling her after her fallout with Quinn. Which brings her to the next issue,

"Quinn told me what happened." Rachel doesn't even wince. She hums vaguely and drinks the last of her red wine before she calls for the bill. She shrugs into her light coat and looks at Santana with curious yet vulnerable eyes. She purses her lips.

"We should talk about this later. But you have to tell me what happened with Brittany all those years ago." Santana figures it's a fair bargain, so she nods in acceptance and drowns in the last bit of wine she has left. The waiter comes back, and Rachel pays for their food, making sure to tip the young pubert generously for not leering and actually serving them.

They somehow end in the park Santana passed on her way back from the airport. They sit on the swings and play with the sand at their feet. The air is almost chilly, so Santana gives Rachel her (Sue's) leather jacket, which is greatly appreciated by the diva, who blushes slightly and gives her a tentative smile.

"We were just fine," Rachel starts. Her eyes contemplate the sky above them. She's unfocused, and Santana squeezes her hand in support. "You remember we were living together, right? Right- of course you do. Anyway, I was coming home one day. I had just gotten the part in Wicked, and I was just _so happy _to tell her the news. She knew how much I worked for it. She was there for me every step of the way. And then-" Her voice breaks. Santana jumps down from her swing and kneels in front of Rachel, who's barely breathing as she chokes on her sobs. "And then I come back home and she's- she's crying on the floor. And I ask her 'what's wrong, Quinn?'. And she- she-" Santana doesn't let her finish. She draws Rachel's head onto her shoulder and lets her cry there.

"She told you she was pregnant, right?" Rachel nods. Santana almost lets out a 'fucking Quinn', but manages to restrain herself. Right now, Rachel needs her. So she may as well be miserable with her. It's a twisted way to show her friendship, but she doesn't know another one.

"This is too much of an irony," Santana rubs Rachel's back in support as she starts. Her voice is barely above a whisper. "I was coming from Cheerios practice. It was around the time where I was afraid of public reaction to my sexuality. Brittany had been acting odd around me- Well, odder than usual," She pauses to clarify. "I figured it was a Lord Tubbington thing. But then she skipped Cheerios practice and I freaked out. Sue sent me after her after she didn't answer her phone. Heh," She lets out a puff of air and Rachel forgets about her own pain for a moment when she sees her bittersweet smile.

_Ten years before_

_Strangled noises were coming from Brittany's room. The Pierce's were away at work, and Brittany's little sister, Maggie, was away at a play meeting with her newest friend. So Santana took the liberty to use the spare key well-hidden among the rose bushes. She considered this to be an emergency; for all she knew, Brittany could have fallen down the stairs or burn herself with the stove while trying to make some hot chocolate (happened before)._

_She turned on the doorknob and hastened her steps, dropping her rucksack on the way. She almost tripped on the steps in her hurry. She recognised Brittany's sobs as soon as she reached the upper floor and her worry only sky-rocketed._

_"Britt-" Her breath caught in her throat; her brown eyes widened. She suddenly felt disoriented and light on her feet._

_Large arms wrapped around her -secret- girlfriend in a protective stance. They were hairy and muscular; twice the size of Santana's. They were completely manly and, worst of all, they did not belong to anyone Santana knew. And she knew everyone in Brittany's family, so she was pretty sure it wasn't a cousin from Holland._

_"San!" The blonde looked at her in bewilderment and guilt. Her lower lip was trapped between her pearly-white teeth, and her face full of smeared make up and tears. She looked horrible. But more horrible looked the man who was hugging her. The scene itself seemed wrong to Santana. It should be her hugging Brittany and not some man she knew nothing about._

_"Britt?" She didn't bother to close the door behind her. The man took his face from Brittany's crook and finally looked at her. Santana's blood boiled on the spot. No wonder the man didn't look familiar. It was the new boy, Matthew Brown. Arrived a month prior and somehow managed to become a footballer and avoid the slushies Santana was dying to shower him with. There was something fishy about him that she never liked. And now, with his arms around her Britt... Well, she could certainly say that she loathed him._

_"Lopez, this is not a good time." She could have sworn her hackles raised at his tone. Who did he think he was? And why was he still hugging Brittany?_

_"Who the fuck-"_

_"San!" Brittany snapped. The Latina backed a step, confused as to why she was being glared by the blonde. Brittany seemed to notice her mishap and looked down at the ground in guilt._

_"Matt, can you leave for a few, please?" The boy nodded tersely before he stood up and walked out of the room. He bumped his shoulder into Santana's without Brittany's notice. But even with her being a foot smaller, she met the bump and managed to scratch his side as a warning._

_"Britt?" Santana took a tentative step towards the blonde and wrapped her arms around her, unsure as to what to do. The blonde flinched in her embrace. She was tense as a board and her breathing was laboured. "Brittany, please! Tell me what's wrong so I can help? Why was Brown here? Why was he hugging you?" She couldn't help but feel jealous and angry._

_"I- San-" Brittany stressed. "I'm so, so sorry. You have to believe me. It- It was an accident. We- I mean, it was my fault." She rambled on and on, but Santana barely caught wind of a few mumbled words. She only understood that Brittany had done something and she felt regretful about it. Santana's blood froze slowly. She didn't want to jump into conclusions, she really didn't, but Brittany wasn't making it easy._

_"Britt," Santana moistened her lips, nervous, and sent the blonde a pleading gaze. "Britt, please tell me you didn't..." She couldn't finish. The thought alone of the blonde cheating on her was breaking her heart. Of all the people capable of it, Santana didn't think Brittany could be able to._

_But she did. Her nod and the sobs that followed confirmed Santana's suspicion._

_"No!" Santana stood up abruptly. Her fists clenched at her sides. She was furious; completely lost in herself and her anger as she looked down on the blonde, her eyes dilated and obscure. She just couldn't believe it. After all they'd been through; all the work they put in slowly building a true trusting relationship. It was all crumbling down before her eyes._

_"San," Brittany wheezed out between sobs. She was gripping the sheets and gritting her teeth. Her chest heaved with her laboured breaths and Santana hated herself for wanting to comfort the blonde for the damage _she _had caused this time. "San, I'm pregnant."_

_One, two, three seconds passed before the information was processed by the Latina's mind. She took a step back, looking at the blonde with betrayal and disbelief in her eyes. She grimaced as she pictured her lover and fucking Matthew on the same bed they made love, fucking like rabbits. She saw him on top of her, grunting and emptying himself inside the blonde with sloppy, jerky moves._

_Her first instinct was to stomp her way out of the room and punch Matt's teeth in, but decided against it. She wasn't a minor anymore, and the guy wouldn't hesitate a second before presenting a sue._

_So, instead, Santana followed her second instinct and ran away from everything. She quickly turned her back to Brittany and ran downstairs and out of the house. She ignored Matthew, she ignored Brittany's mom calling her name in worry and she certainly ignored Brittany's cries of anguish behind her. However, it didn't mean that she would forget them in a near future._

_She didn't stop running until she reached her house, with the help of her Cheerio training and Sue's freaky yet useful shakes. She ran all thirty blocks until she arrived and climbed her way up a tree to her room, glad that Carmen was away studying in college and they wouldn't have to share a room. The eldest Lopez would surely throw a fit and hunt Brittany down if she ever saw Santana's state, pregnant teen or not._

_By the time her mother found her, five hours later, after she returned from work, Santana was already planning to run away again. She had her bag ready and her savings in her pocket. Maribel stopped her as soon as she saw her and smacked some sense into her, adding a verbal beatdown in the middle so Santana would know she meant business._

_And when her usually strong baby girl broke down in sobs and a blubbering mess, spilling everything, she had to pause and stop herself from marching to Brittany's house and give her the same treatment her daughter had just received. She was one of the selected few that knew about Santana's sexuality, her struggles and insecurities, even before her own daughter knew it herself. And she knew just how much she loved the blonde, even if she didn't often say it._

_"What's going on here?" Julio Lopez, Santana's father arrived just in time to witness the scene. Santana felt a horrible sense of drear creeping up her spine. Her father, no matter how much she disliked him, knew Santana very well. As a consequence, he knew that only something of great importance would upset her as much. And he, no matter how little interest he had in her life, still cared about his daughter like the next one, and he was very protective of them if not zealous._

_So when Santana finally forced herself to tell her father the unavoidable truth, finally revealing her sexuality to him, he exploded in rage and sent her to her room, ordering her to forget about the blonde -or any other female- and grow the fuck up. He yelled some more, but Santana didn't really listen after the first few screams. Her mind got stuck in the idea of 'forgetting' about Brittany. If only it was so easy. If only she could get away with it she wouldn't be suffering as much._

_Because no matter what the blonde did, Santana would always forgive her. And she feared that if she let time pass, she would run back into the blonde's arms and ask for forgiveness._

_For what?_

_Santana seethed. What did she have to ask forgiveness for? She hadn't cheated, and she certainly hadn't been st- foolish enough to cheat and not use protection. She hadn't gone to the nearest warm body -fucking Matthew Brown's body- and jumped on it. She did everything she could for the blonde to correct past mistakes. She treated her like a Queen and conceded her every wish on a whim, no matter if it was chasing a duck for her or threatening someone without her notice because they had called her stupid (because Santana always caught wind of it)._

_She fell asleep, wreaking her brain over a single question eating up at her mind: What had she done wrong?_

"San..." Rachel whispers as she finishes. Santana nods in acknowledgment. She knows that Rachel is there for her but doesn't know how to verbalize it, as surprising as that sounds.

"The next day I left for the army. I only left a note for my mom and my sisters. Didn't even bother with dad, as you may imagine." She bites out. "He's never been there for the video chats. He didn't even send a card for my birthdays. He just doesn't talk to me, Rach." Her voice cracks. No matter how much she despises her father for being a closed-minded ass, he is still the same man who used to play catch with her, back when he didn't drown in work and coffee.

"Maybe- Okay, this is an idea only, but... Maybe he's afraid of something?" Santana looks at her as if she were crazy. "I mean. He obviously loves you. I've seen him look at you before. And he's _proud__, _San. I've never seen any parent as proud as he is of his daughters. Not even mine and you've seen what I've achieved." There it is, Santana thinks with a small smile, the old Rachel and her oblivious self-centred opinion. And maybe it's her age, but she doesn't sound as annoying as she used to.

"I don't know, Rach. I returned yesterday and haven't heard of him." Rachel shrugs, not knowing how to answer.

"Wait..." Rachel frowns as her mind finally processes Santana's story and its details. "This was ten years ago. But Charlie is..." Her eyes widen in realization. The fact that nobody knew that Brittany was pregnant -and nobody can hide a pregnancy- makes her finally acknowledge how much of a Soap Opera their life is.

Santana nods gravelly. "She lost it on the third month. A nasty fall at dance class and it was over."

Rachel falls back and sighs, tears welling up at her eyes when she hears. "Quinn..." Santana nods again, throwing her head back and gazing at the stars, deep in thought.

_"I don't know who it was. We shared classes and that was it." Quinn retold the facts to a very stoic Santana. "He started flirting and I rejected immediately. I was so in love with Rachel it was sickeningly sweet." She chuckled humorlessly. "Then I started thinking about us -Rachel and I- and I saw myself in a few years, standing up to applaud her and holding a kid in my arms." Quinn paused and closed her eyes in pain. "I panicked. I totally freaked out for no apparently coherent reason. I mean, I had a safe future with the woman I loved, nothing better than that, right? And then this guy and I hooked up in a party and-" She glanced down at her trembling hands in shame. "I don't remember the rest. I woke up naked, sore and alone in a bed. He left a note with something obscene and I felt like the biggest piece of work in the world." Santana didn't voice her affirmation._

_"The baby?" Quinn's eyes answered for her. "It-" Quinn nodded when the Latina hesitated to ask. It was too much of a delicate subject._

_"The doctors said-" She swallowed down. "They said he was alive when I went into labour. He-" Santana took the blonde in her arms as she broke down. No matter how angry she was, no woman deserved to go through what Quinn had. Losing two children... She just couldn't imagine the sheer pain of it. "He choked, San. He choked." Santana rocked her back and forth, whispering into her ear and telling her that everything would be okay, even if she didn't believe it herself._

_Quinn cried in her shoulder, her next words striking the Latina like a bullet through her side. "I had some damage too. They say I will never be able to have children again."_

_It was just so unfair. Santana knew that Quinn's dream, no matter her decisions in life, was to have a family. What she couldn't understand was why she would throw the opportunity away. Fear was and always would be a primitive and powerful emotion that would reign over the few who easily succumbed. Quinn was strong, but she was human, and she succumbed to her fears._

Santana grabs Rachel's hand and traces her thumb over the diva's slender fingers. "It's gonna be okay." At this point, she isn't sure if she's assuring the people around her or just trying to fool herself.

* * *

Somehow I was writing and lost inspiration right at the end! It was crazy, I tell you!

I can't promise I'll update soon, since I'm catching up with college and all. So, as a compensation -or maybe overload- I charged this chapter with drama.


End file.
